


Death and Her Merchant

by finx



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Deals With The Devil, Discussion of Death, Gen, Supernatural Elements, Thoughts about death, and mortality, and so on - Freeform, but it totally could be?, but there are deals, but you know yourself better than I do, don't click here, i'm not good at this, it's not too intense, like it doesn't have to be, not an au, okay I tagged this gen but if you're freaked out by, or I don't think so, that kinda thing, there is no devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:47:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finx/pseuds/finx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had laughed when he told her. “Merchant of Death, eh? Well, they’re not wrong.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death and Her Merchant

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Death's Favorite Merchant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2360435) by [Era_Penn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Era_Penn/pseuds/Era_Penn). 



> I read Era_Penn's story and this just sort of... happened. I don't even know.

**It’d been years since his hands trembled as he drew the chalk lines**

_scrubbing at the circle again and again because it had to come out perfect_

**but the words didn’t waver as he spoke them from memory**

_tongue tripping over the dense vowels and foreign consonants as he practiced in secret_

 

Bullets punched holes in the air and kicked up sand all around him, and Tony knew the sound of every gun he’d ever made but they had never seemed so loud as this. The roar of gunfire drowned out his heartbeat, punctuated here and there by an explosion that made the whole world tight and hot and airless until he was gasping for breath as he staggered out of the car and into the blinding sun. His eyes were filled with the slight jerk that the soldiers’ bodies – kids, they were just kids, they were kids and now they were bodies – had made as they’d died around him, died protecting him, died because of him, and the last thing he saw before he blacked out for good was his name painted on a bomb casing.

 

**The air grew cold as he waited, the familiar chill settling over him like a mantle**

_his breath came out in puffs of mist and finally ice, crystallizing in front of him, and the boy’s chest grew tight as he gasped in barely suppressed panic_

**“Why darling,” she said, and her voice was the crackle of fire in the darkness, “It’s been so long since you**

_since anyone_

**called. I was beginning to think you**

_you mortals_

**had forgotten me.”**

**He grinned at her, and it was a shaky thing. “Now how could I forget such a pretty face?”**

 

She had laughed when he told her. “Merchant of Death? Well, they’re not wrong.”

Tony chuckled, and the tight feeling in his throat was so small he didn’t have to bother swallowing it down. “True enough,” he said instead, lifting his glass in a careless toast. “You've got a pretty sweet benefits package.”

She smiled at him, possessive and predatory, and Tony’s own grin faltered. “And you are most definitely mine.”

 

**“Just a small change,”**

_bring them back_

**he promised**

_he begged_

**With one last, deep breath**

_he forced himself to meet her eyes_

**and sealed his fate**

_and suddenly he was falling into a black abyss, stars burning coldly across the vast distances, and in front of him was a fire bigger than worlds_

**“I can’t be your merchant anymore.”**

 

She never answered his questions, but when they talked she would let little things slip into the conversation, wisps and fragments of a deeper reality. Tony hoarded with the wonder and precision of a true scientist. She insisted she didn’t mind being called up so often. “You’re my favorite,” she told him with a wink. “None of my other mortals are so clever as you.” She was lonely, and perhaps the secrets of the universe were a small price to pay for some company.

As the years passed, Tony fell into the trap of thinking that because she was lonely, she was like him.

 

**Her eyes were black and ancient as she looked at him, her mouth set in a thin line.**

_I cannot, she answered at last, and her voice was the shattering of glaciers in the eternal night at the beginning of time_

**“You will always be mine.”**

_they have been too long in my kingdom to return to your world_

**He thought of that quick and awful jerk**

_three black caskets shining dully in the afternoon sun_

**the sightless eyes of a man who’d joined his family**

_a stern voice and a distant smile and strong arms that held him when he cried_

**his name in white on a bomb casing**

_the boy had long since shed all his tears, but at her words he bowed his head and felt his heart fall into a thousand pieces_

**and he agreed with her.**

Obie pulled out his heart and Tony thought that this was it, his time was up, the deal was broken, and he wondered if he’d ever get to know what kind of fire burned bigger than worlds. Until his paralyzed muscles twitched, and at the icy breath that ghosted past his ear he knew that he still had her favor. Desperately he lunged for the arc reactor that Pepper had framed, and as he stuffed it in his aching chest he gave thanks to all the gods that might exist that most people were more sentimental about near-death experiences than he was.

 

**“I will still bring you death,” he said, and the words felt bitter on his tongue. He thought of the way the weapons on his suit flew fast and true and ended in fire, and knew that it was not a lie. “But I can’t sell it any more.”**

**She gazed at him with anger and disdain in every line of her face, and he forced himself not to cower before her. He had forgotten how alien and terrifying she could be. “You promised me a legacy.”**

**He closed his eyes and saw his name printed in white on a bomb casing. “My legacy is long since built.”**

 

The black lines spread from the hole in his chest and through his veins like something out of a bad sci-fi. Tony watched them climb up his neck and wondered if this counted as ‘by his own hand’. He remembered ancient black eyes and a chilling smile and admitted to himself that it probably did. Tony thought, wearily, of how he poisoned everything he touched, and decided he would go out with a bang.

When his father's message became his salvation, Tony wondered bitterly if irony was one of the fundamental laws of the universe.

 

**When he opened his eyes**

_do we have a deal?_

**he was alone**

_will you be mine?_

 

Tony Stark was, after all, a genius. He saw his death coming, even before the sky opened up and he glimpsed the cold white stars on the other side. The bomb was just a detail, a formality, the final piece clicking into place, and as it bucked under his gauntlets he wondered it if it had his name printed on it. He watched the black abyss fill with fire and thought of legacies, and wondered if Pepper would ever forgive him for dying by his own hand.

“Not yet,” he heard a voice whisper. “You’re still my favorite.”

He woke to a roar that rattled his very soul, and felt it settle into place as the untorn blue sky filled his vision.

 

_yes._


End file.
